d the same falsehood about his mother being
ill to him at the race course. From Alan the cashier had learned that
Mortimer had been betting heavily; he had admitted to the boy that he
had won enough to replace the thousand dollars he had stolen. Mortimer's
words had been contorted into that reading in their journey through
two personalities. He had even begged young Porter not to speak of
his betting transactions. He had denied taking the money--that was but
natural; he had been forced to admit replacing it--that was conclusive.
Indeed it seemed a waste of time to investigate further; it was utterly
impossible to doubt his guilt. Mesh by mesh, like an enthralling net,
all the different threads of convicting circumstances were drawn about
the accused man.

"Let us question him?" said Crane; and in his heart was not sorrow,
nor hate, nor compassion, nor anything but just joy. Greater than the
influence of money in his love ambition would be this degradation, this
reducing to a felon a man he felt stood between him and Allis Porter.

Yesterday they had won; to-day victory, almost, to him had come. Yes,
bring the deliverer in; he would feast his eyes, the narrow-lidded
eyes, upon the man whose young love might have conquered over all his
diplomacy, and who would go forth from his hands branded as a felon.

The probing of the already condemned man elicited nothing beyond a
repeated denial of theft. With the precision of Mam'selle Guillotine,
Cashier Lane lopped off everything that could possibly stand in
Mortimer's defense, grafting into the cleaved places individual facts
which confirmed his guilt. Mortimer contended nothing, threw suspicion
upon no one. Was it Alan Porter? Was it Cass?--but that was impossible.
Was it the cashier himself? Still more impossible. Mortimer answered
nothing. He had not taken the money. Yes, he had replaced it--because he
was responsible for its custody.

"Can't you see," cried Crane, impatiently, "that this simple denial
of yours is of no value as against so much that points to your--" he
hesitated--"your implication?"

XL

While Mortimer was still in the cashier's improvised inquisition room,
Allis Porter came into the bank to arrange the payment of her father's
note.

The sunshine seemed to come with her into the counting house that was
all gloom. Her glorious success, the consequent improvement in her
father, the power to pay off his indebtedness--all these had turned that
da